Sokka's Misadventure
by Whisperwill
Summary: He shouldn't have left home by himself, he shouldn't have sailed too far from the village, and he shouldn't have gotten himself into this perilous situation. Little Sokka's in trouble. One shot. A partner to another of my stories, called "Hakoda's Misadventure."


**Disclaimer: I don't own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_; someone else who's very lucky does. I didn't create it; that credit goes to the two geniuses and my role models, Mike DiMartino and Bryan Koneitzko. And I'm not making money by posting this story.**

**A/N: Originally completed either late 2006 or early 2007. Takes place when Sokka was nine. Read and review-I'm asking! Begging! :D**

**Rated K+ for corporal punishment.**

**Sokka's Misadventure**

Sokka took inventory on the objects assembled before him. Boomerang. Dagger. Spear (a child-sized spear, significantly smaller than those used by the men of the village, but still, a spear). Seal-sinew fishing line. A number of different-sized bone fishhooks. Two rocks for starting a fire—one ordinary, the other a chunk of unrefined ore.

There were also the boring things: blanket, spare mittens, waterproof satchel . . .all those irritating necessities that weren't necessary. They were packed because Kya insisted that he always pack them, in case his canoe went astray and he got lost. Lost in the Antarctic was a very bad thing—fatal, in fact.

But it wasn't like he was going to get lost. He almost laughed at the thought as he shoved the belongings into his satchel. His mother worried too much. He slung the pack over his shoulder, stuck the dagger into his belt, and, holding his spear proudly, left his bedroom.

"Where're you going?" Katara demanded reproachfully, her huge blue eyes shining up at him.

"Out fishing," Sokka replied carelessly, as though it were something he did every day.

"_Fishing_?" Katara repeated incredulously. "You can't go fishing! You're not allowed to take your canoe out without permission! You've never gone beyond the big icebergs by yourself. You haven't even asked Daddy or Mommy if you can go out. And just 'cause Daddy helped you make a new sealskin canoe, does _not_ mean—"

"So ask Mom when she gets in," Sokka cut his sister off impatiently. She could be too obedient sometimes, so insufferably adherent to the rules. "And then I'll have permission."

She cast him a look of shock and outrage. "Sokka, Mommy won't be back from doing the washing for a long time! I can't ask her when she gets back!"

"Sure you can," he assured her, waving his hand in farewell. "She won't mind." He headed out the door while she continued to shout at him.

"Sokka! Mommy and Daddy will be mad at you! You're not supposed to go out alone! Come back!"

He ignored her. Why couldn't he go out? He _was_ nine years old, after all. It wasn't as if he were going to wander. He would merely take his canoe just out of reach of the shore. What was so wrong about that? When he came home with a beautiful string of fish, Katara would be sorry that she'd tried to stop him.

He maintained careful balance while getting into his little canoe—his _own_ canoe that belonged to him . . .he'd never had one of his own before. A few strokes of the bone paddle, and he was off.

There were no difficulties, no problems. The water was mostly calm, with few waves. He made sure he was within sight of the shore before baiting his hook and dropping the line. He let the seal-sinew thread slip through his fingers, lowering it deeper and deeper. After it had reached a suitable depth, he sat back to wait.

The sun coursed slowly through the sky, and an hour later Sokka was practically asleep at the bow. Why weren't the fish biting? He had been here for so long and hadn't even felt a—

Wait! There it was—a nibble! He yanked expertly on the line and felt a wild struggle from the other end. He'd hooked one! With trembling hands, he reeled in his catch. Oh, but it was beautiful. Easily the biggest eelfish he'd ever seen, maybe the biggest eelfish ever! He pulled it alongside his little boat and placed his prize in the holding net, where it would remain alive in a watery little prison until he went ashore. Wait until the village boys saw this! Grinning broadly, he turned northward to make his way back.

The sight that met his eyes filled him with dread. He couldn't see the village. In front of him, a blank stretch of ice cliffs rose harshly up to meet the sun. His boat must have drifted in the current and carried him beyond Glacier Point.

_Beyond Glacier Point!_ The very thought caused him to shudder. No civilization out here, just glaciers, icebergs . . .and sabre seals.

Sabre seals looked a lot like their cousins, the domesticated arctic seals. But looks could be deceiving: while arctic seals were reasonably tame, sabre seals were ferocious hunters. They ate anything that moved, as long as it was made of meat. It was for that reason that only the men of the village came out this far.

Sokka got out his bone oar and began paddling madly. The wind buffeted his face as he paddled against the opposition of the current. When he finally began to near Glacier Point, he was puffing with exertion. Nearer . . .nearer . . .now he was battling with all his might to round the point, where the current was strongest. And it was at that crucial moment, breathing heavily, that he struck ice.

He sat bolt upright in alarm at the sound of ripping sealskin. The malicious current took the opportunity to sweep him back around the point. He fought to keep calm as the canoe rapidly filled with water from the gash in the boat's bottom. His waterproof satchel slipped over the side and sank instantly. Was he about to go down, too?

Yet in the midst of his panic, the current finally sided with him. His rapidly sinking little boat brushed against the ice, giving him just enough time to scramble out. The canoe was gone by the time he turned around. His prize eelfish had managed to escape the net and now swam lazily away, waving its tail smugly in farewell.

All alone. He was all alone in the Antarctic tundra, and who knew how near the sabre seals were? Several fear-filled moments passed before he gathered his thoughts. He had to go back to the village. But there was water all around, and—wait a minute. Water all around? His stomach tensed painfully as he realized that he had jumped ship on an iceberg. Could anything else go wrong?

A high-pitched snarl echoed across the ice from behind him. He whirled around so fast that he nearly slipped and fell into the water. A sabre seal cub glared defiantly at him, baring his undersized fangs. Sokka automatically pulled out his dagger. He thought of fighting the cub in a heroic battle, dagger versus fang, and proving the superiority of man over beast. But then he noticed that the little creature's tail was trapped in the ice. Edging close to the cub, he weighed the idea of chiseling him loose. The notion was quickly abandoned, though, at the vicious growls that ensued whenever he got too close. In the end, he contented himself with hunkering down in the snow, gripping his dagger. He and the seal stared balefully at one another, neither one willing to initiate a fight. They were trapped, unable to escape their respective prisons. All that was left to do was wait. Sokka seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

The sun curved lazily across the sky for hours, indifferent to the plight of those below. And when it finally began to sink below the horizon, it slipped rapidly and apathetically out of sight, leaving the twosome in darkness.

From unnervingly close by, a light splash sounded. Sokka tilted his head slightly, considering. He was unsure if it was the kind of splash made by a wayward wave, or—wait, there it was again. Getting to his feet uneasily, he held his dagger out in front of him. A third splash came, this one of the heralding kind: something was coming. With a _whoosh_, an enormous sabre seal erupted out of the water and landed directly in front of him. Somewhere in the background, the cub let out a bark of welcome. Panic-stricken, Sokka stumbled backward. Crunching noises on the ice behind him signaled a new arrival. Was an entire pod of seals surrounding him?

"Sokka."

His heart leapt at the sound of his father's voice, so calm, so strong. A mittened hand closed around his arm. Hakoda pulled him away from the huge animal while drawing his spear. Staring in awe, Sokka beheld his father facing the bull seal fearlessly. The creature's roar was matched by Hakoda's warrior shout. They glared a challenge at one another, the moonlight glinting off both tusk and spearhead. For a moment, everything froze in place. Neither side would budge. Then, the spell was broken by a small seal-whimper. The bull blinked at the sound, distracted. Slowly, Hakoda lowered his spear. His eyes met his opponent's. Sokka, watching, saw that some sort of understanding passed between them. The next moment, they were backing away peacefully. Hakoda sheathed his spear in the narrow case across his back. With one thrust of his giant tusks, the bull seal freed his cub. The pup's squeal of joy changed to one of pain as his father smacked him with a giant flipper. Sokka knew why: little seals weren't supposed to wander far from their herd. The two animals entered the water together, the bull still growling his displeasure.

Sokka slipped quietly into the front compartment of his father's canoe. Hakoda got in behind him and began paddling. The current was against them, and the boat made slow headway. Time crawled along, and still Hakoda didn't say a word. Sokka felt nettled by an unexpected shard of guilt. He was initially confused by the feeling—after all, he hadn't ever, _ever_, meant to drift all the way past Glacier Point. But then he remembered Katara's accusing glare as he had left their little hut. He recalled the father seal's anger at his cub. Maybe the baby seal hadn't _meant_ to swim so far away—maybe it was an accident. Yet, what if the pup had been eaten? His family would keep waiting for him to swim back home, but they would wait in vain. Sokka slumped morosely in his seat as they came within sight of the little village. It would have been much easier to brush off the shame that weighed him down if that seal pup didn't resemble him so perfectly.

The canoe bumped gently against an icy shore. Hakoda stepped out of the boat, and Sokka scrambled out, too. He stood awkwardly while his father heaved the canoe onto the bank and patted great mounds of snow around it. After securing the canoe, Hakoda turned silently and strode away, with Sokka running to keep up. Their ice hut was easy to distinguish from the surrounding ones, because of the blue cloth artistically hung above the door. Sokka's mother had used her Waterbending skills to freeze the corners of the material in place.

Hakoda stepped inside the hut with a shout.

"Kya! I've found him."

Sokka came forward timidly, and was almost bowled over by his mother and sister as they threw themselves upon him.

"Oh, Sokka!" Kya said, her voice unsteady as she hugged him close. Katara wrapped her arms around his waist, shouting gleefully,

"I knew he'd find you! I knew you'd come back!" Almost smothered between them, Sokka felt guilt crash in on him once more. How long had they been worried? The reunion wasn't pleasant for him, and it ended with an even less pleasant order from his father.

"Go to the meat shanty, Sokka," Hakoda ordered quietly.

Sokka's heart plummeted. He had forgotten about the ending to the seal cub's story. . . and how it would parallel his own. He trudged away to what was undoubtedly his least favorite place on earth.

The little meat shanty was constructed of blocks of ice. There were many like it scattered throughout the village, each shared by a couple of families. They served two purposes. One was the freezing of meat; the other, the meting out of punishment. Every boy in the village knew the meat shanties well, and every boy loathed them.

Sokka stepped through the opening that served as a door. The shanty was kept cold to preserve the meat that was stacked against the walls and hanging from the ceiling. His breath was smokily visible in the darkness as he slipped out of his fur parka, shivering. The heavy coat was carefully folded and placed on the ground so that the inside remained dry. He was familiar with the drill—maybe a little too familiar.

Hakoda came in carrying a lantern and was careful not to spill the oil as he set it on a windowsill. The dreaded sealskin lash was in his hand.

"Come here, Sokka," he commanded, his voice hard but his eyes soft. Sokka obeyed, trembling slightly. Upon reaching his father, he turned away and pressed his face against the icy wall, waiting with bated breath. The lash struck with biting pain, blow after blow, and Sokka bit his lower lip to contain the cries of pain that were fighting to break free. All that managed to escape were the smallest of whimpers from his puckered lips, and a single hot tear from each eye.

The punishment was mercifully short. Sokka stepped away from the wall, went to get his coat, and slipped it back on. Meeting his father's eyes, he was flooded once more with remorse.

"Dad, I'm sorry!" he cried out impulsively. "I know I shouldn't have taken the canoe out. I'm sorry for drifting so far from the village; I'm sorry for making you all worry . . . I'm sorry for everything I did!"

Hakoda's face smoothed into a smile. "It's all right, Sokka," he said gently. "It's over now." He reached out and scooped Sokka up, growling playfully like a platypus-bear and enveloping his son in a crushing bear hug. Laughing, Sokka burrowed his face as far as it would go into his father's parka.

They left the shanty to return to the house, Sokka riding atop Hakoda's shoulders all the way.

_~The End~_


End file.
